


I Know Where You Sleep

by AlwaysJohn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A moment of mild angst with a happy ending, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Gentle Manhandling, Humor, M/M, Mild smut covers it I guess, No Mary or Rosie, No specific place in the time line so let's call it good, Teasing, loving lovely-ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13799043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysJohn/pseuds/AlwaysJohn
Summary: A lull in The Work, a storm, and just being together.





	I Know Where You Sleep

The detective stared into the dancing flames, uncommonly thankful for the lull in The Work as a one of a kind storm marched on London. A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows, driving ice pellets like gunshots against the glass. 

Sherlock glanced across to where John dozed, chin slowly dipping toward his chest, the latest medical journal open but unread in his lap. He smiled, as a warmth that had nothing to do with the crackling fire curled low in his belly.

After five long days of ten hour shifts at the surgery, John had come home at the end of it, showered, and then accompanied Sherlock on a case that had the potential to be at least an eight, but dwindled to a three that was solved by the time they showed up at the crime scene. John was nearly hallucinating by the time they got home, but resisted sleep to spend some time together. 

He’d ordered Chinese takeaway because he didn’t want to cook and John could barely stand or focus long enough to be of any help. Even the thing with the peas was beyond him.

At the kitchen table, John, his head propped in one palm, unsuccessfully tried to eat with chopsticks. Because Sherlock was concerned John might poke him himself in one or the other of his orifices while handling a fork, he wrapped John’s fingers around a spoon. The good doctor glared at Sherlock for a moment or two before shovelling the food into his mouth with the offending spoon, and finally left the table with a major grump and his tea. He was Captain Grumpy for a short time once settled in his chair by the fire, but eventually, insult apparently forgotten, he dozed.

Sherlock studied him from his chair opposite, oddly alone without his army doctor’s company, but knowing John needed his sleep. Even the howling wind couldn’t reach down into the depths of his slumber. 

John had been asleep for nearly thirty minutes, and as much as Sherlock disliked the thought of waking him while he looked so peaceful, young and vulnerable, he knew John would not be pleased with the stiff neck he’d suffer from such a position. 

Just after midnight, Sherlock decided he could wait no longer. In near silence, the only sound other than the wind was the swoosh of his socked feet as he closed both landing doors, and extinguished all but the light above the cooker. After pocketing his phone and sending their laptops to cyber slumber, smiling at his own word whimsy as he did so, he returned to where John slept on. 

Securing the safety screen in front of the dying embers in the grate, Sherlock glanced over his shoulder at the flickering light reflecting over John’s beautiful face. 

Crawling on hands and knees to kneel in front of John, he gazed for long moments at this man who was his everything. What he’d done in his life to deserve this man’s love was beyond his understanding, but it was so. Until John came into his life, he’d felt neither love, nor contentment. For all his genius, he’d never understood the concept of having someone watch over him, not with familial duty, but with true and caring compassion, protecting him from the Andersons of the world.

“John,” he whispered, curling his fingers over John’s hands in an attempt to wake but not startle him.

“Hmpft,” John mumbled, groaning when he finally lifted his head, the stiffness already setting in, but didn’t open his eyes.

“John, it’s after midnight. Time for bed. Let me help you?”

“M’kay,” he managed past a yawn and a another groan. John leaned forward, draping his arms over Sherlock’s shoulders and nuzzled his nose into his neck.

“Very well, John. I’ll carry you if I must.”

With one arm around John’s waist and the other beneath his knees, Sherlock lifted his army doctor with ease, carrying him down the hall to their bedroom, and tipping him carefully onto the bed. Within seconds John popped up onto his feet, weaving towards the loo on unsteady legs.

The detective waited in the doorway to be sure John stayed on his feet long enough to relieve himself, wash his hands, and brush his teeth, which John accomplished with eyes closed, and an adorable sway in front of the mirror.

Guiding John back to bed meant just following him. He navigated his way just fine, sitting on the edge of the bed again with his eyes closed. He was still there when Sherlock exited the loo, his nightly ablutions complete.

Sherlock undressed himself and John quickly, rolling him over onto his pillow, turned off the lights and slipped into bed next to his army doctor.

John inhaled deeply, stretching his limbs until his entire body trembled, groaning as he did so. Within seconds he melted into the mattress.

“John?”

There was only silence from the man just inches away.

“John, are you awake??

“Hmm? I am now,” John whispered in words slurred with sleep. “Is there something you need to tell me, ask me, or you are ruminating about? Or something you don’t understand?”

Sherlock smiled, pressing a kiss to an enticing earlobe. “Oh, John, you know me so well. If you continue to improve you one day will be able to best me at extrapolation of facts.”

“As if that’s likely to happen. So, which is it?”

“The second one, John.”

“The second one, wait, I don’t remember what the second option was,” John mumbled nearly under his breath.

“Ask me.”

“Ask you what, Sherlock? My brain is not functioning on all..”

“Cylinders, John, and the term is firing on all cylinders”

“Oh, right, yeah. Em..” John hummed, rolling onto his side, flopping an arm across Sherlock’s waist and tucking himself against his side. “What were you saying? I forgot.”

Sherlock rested a hand on John where thigh met hip and waited for a reaction. Nothing. No interest at all. He chuckled to himself.

“Your brain isn’t the only thing not firing on all cylinders, John.”

“Okay.”

“Go to sleep, John. I’ll ask you again tomorrow when you are able to think in a linear fashion.”

“Ithinkyoujustcalledmeanidiot,” John murmured.

“Good deduction, my love.”

“No, really, Sherlock, was..what..hum..what was you..what was it you wanted to arse..ask me?”

Sherlock kissed John’s nose this time. “Oh, very well, John. I wanted to know if you ever wondered what our lives would be now had we not met?”

John was so quiet, still and heavy against him that Sherlock was certain he’d fallen asleep. Kissing John’s temple as he gathered him closer, he was surprised when John patted his cheek with one finger. Whether he was sleeping, or contemplating, Sherlock couldn’t glean from his closed eyes and passive expression, nor his breathing which was soft and even enough to indicate sleep. 

“I think you would have gone on as usual, never knowing that there was someone who knew how to love you, was waiting for you.” 

As his last word passed John’s lips, Sherlock’s eyes filled. 

What a dreadful life in a world without John Watson. 

“And you?” he asked against his doctor’s temple in a gruff voice that sounded wrong to his own ears. 

“Doesn’t matter. I would have been dead.”

Sherlock gasped, squeezing John so tightly that his army doctor grunted in protest. Pushing John onto his back and straddling him so that he would understand the depth of his indignation, he glared at his doctor. 

“No! John, don’t say that, just, no, just no. How could you think that your life was not worth living? I was waiting for you, John. I know that as surely as I know the teddy bear goes round and round.”

John gazed up at him with half-open eyes. 

Sherlock sighed. “I’m going to kiss you now, and no foreplay is intended. I just need to kiss you and you need to delete those thoughts at once.”

“Yes, my love. Deleted.” John smiled as Sherlock plundered his mouth. 

“Brilliant man.”

“Yes.”

“Modest.”

“Always,” John whispered when the kiss ended.

Sherlock lay his head on John’s chest to listen to his steady heartbeat. It was the only thing that helped him delete John’s words from his memory. Those words didn’t deserve to be spoken ever again.

For a unknown time, Sherlock lay with John’s arms around his shoulders, sturdy fingers caressing the nape of his neck, his doctor’s breath against his ear.

“It hurts my heart to know that you might have taken your own life, not knowing that I was searching for you even though I didn’t realise I was. Searching for you, I mean.”

Now at least moderately awake, John framed his face with his hands. “I know, Sherlock, but neither of us knew the other existed and if there are no coincidences, what are we left with? Neither of us knew something was missing.”

“We have to put it all down to a serendipitous event. I know my brother preaches that coincidence doesn’t exist and that the universe is rarely so lazy, but I’ve had a lot of time to think about it..”

“Oh, you have, have you?” John said with a smile in his voice. “And what have you cogitated in that great genius head?”

“Patronisation, John.”

“Sorry,” John whispered, but Sherlock didn’t think he was sincere. He changed his mind abruptly when John gently pulled on his curls and then cradled his face with his fingertips.

“I’m not mocking you. I love you, Sherlock. You know that now. We don’t need to look back and make ourselves sad by thinking about what might have been had we not found each other.”

“My mind constantly ruminates, John, sometimes I can’t find ways to stop it because one solution may not work the next time it happens and I have to find something else. Is it any wonder that I did cocaine for so long.”

“You have me now, you great git, and I will keep you right.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes as another thought forced its way into his process. “Do you realise that you have many names for me, but I have only one for you?”

“Hum...easy on the subject change, Sherlock, I’m not..um. They are all endearing names, Sherlock. I always want to show you how much I love you.” John sighed, kissing the top of his head.

“Yes, I see. Berk, great git, tosser, twit, wanker, and more wordy ones, for a genius, Sherlock, sometimes you’re a bit thick,” he stated, as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to John’s sternum. “And ‘love,’ you call me ‘love.’ I like that one best.

“I also call you brilliant, amazing, and all those other adjectives I can’t remember right now. And if you keep doing that, despite being knackered, I won’t be responsible for what I might do ”

“Not tonight, John, you’re an old man now, you need adequate rest. As fatigued as you are, you might not be able to rise to the occasion.”

“Hey!” John protested. “Five years, Sherlock Holmes. It’s only five years and I’ll show you how to rise to the occasion.”

The detective was certain he shrieked loud enough to be heard all the way to the Marylebone tube station, or at least to Mrs. Hudson’s flat downstairs, when John plunged his hand past the waistband of his pants and manhandled him to the occasion until his eyes rolled back in his head and his mind exploded with...a light brighter than anything he’d ever experienced. And God, how he hoped it would happen again...and again...and..

In his absent mind, Sherlock didn’t realise John had left their bed until he returned with a warm flannel to clean him up. Warm, cosy and naked beneath the duvet and held tenderly in John’s arms, Sherlock tangled their legs together.

Much later, he didn’t care about the time, they had nowhere to be the next day, he pressed a lazy kiss to John’s mouth, surprised that the man was still awake. 

“I stand corrected, John Watson, my love, my heart, my everything.”

“How so?” John murmured.

“I have more names for you, other than John, but John seems to be my preferred default.”

John’s gentle laughter rumbled in his chest. “And your point, my dear consulting detective?”

“Don’t be an idiot, John.”

“It’s all fine, Sherlock.”

“We are good together, aren’t we?”

“Yes, have you just now noticed?”

“No, I believe I have known that since the first moment I met you.”

“I’m glad, because I’ve known it for a long time, too.”

“Sometimes, John..”

“No, love, not now.”

“John?”

“This is nice, let’s just enjoy being together, warm and sleepy, just holding on to each other.”

Sherlock sighed with feigned annoyance. “Very well, John, my love, only sweet thoughts.”

“Yes, sweet, sloppy, sentimental thoughts.” 

“I intend to reciprocate, you know,”

“Reciprocate what, my great git?”

“For you. Rising to your occasion, John, do keep up.”

“To be honest, Sherlock, I would be very pleased to accomplish that for you, however, I think it will have to be tomorrow. In the morning, I think, after the storm has passed. My old, tired, decrepit body, as much as I hate to admit it, is just not on for anything other than sleep.”

“Even for your commanding officer?”

“Yes, definitely for my commanding officer. I need to be at my best, full throttle to handle him. He’s very demanding. He deserves only the best.”

“Damn straight.”

“No, Sherlock, just no. It doesn’t suit you.”

“But I need to have a line of some kind.”

“You don’t need a line.”

“Do you have a line, John?”

John giggled, kissing his chin. “No, don’t need one, I just curse when it seems appropriate.”

“I’ll have to give it some thought, John.”

“Well, pass it by me before you use it. Just in case.”

“Of course, John, just in case,” Sherlock whispered, kissing the sweet spot behind the most beautiful shell of an ear he’d ever had the privilege to love. The only ear he’d ever love until the end of time. “You, John Watson, keep me right.”

“I always do my best work when it’s to protect you, love.”

Later, in the deep hours of the morning, after John finally gave in to sleep, Sherlock held fast to his doctor, loving him silently, with his gaze, and with gentle kisses. Unwilling to allow himself to sleep when he had this time to simply hold the man asleep in his arms, the love of his life-he couldn’t say that often enough-the man who promised he would always stay.

Sherlock proclaimed himself giddy with happiness, though to not a single person, excepting John, would he admit that fact. 

John sighed, reaching for him without a wakeful thought he would remember by daylight. Sherlock gathered him closer than he had thought a possibility just a year ago, holding him, trailing feather-light touches to the eyelashes that were soft as silk. His fingertips traced John’s lips, reveling in their softness. He caressed the quirky beard that felt at once soft and bristly beneath his touch. He kissed the temple once damaged on the 5th of November, another of the many times he’d almost lost John, and lastly kissed the scar at his shoulder that nearly took John’s life before they’d had a chance to meet. 

He shut down those memories so that the fear he kept so deeply hidden would not be transmitted to John in his tranquil sleep. If there was a God, if he was wrong, although he was hardly ever wrong, Sherlock thanked her/him for allowing John to come into his life.

Perhaps Mike Stamford was God’s emissary, sent to set off the sequence that brought them to this day and whatever lies ahead tomorrow and every day after that. Coincidence or serendipity, a case to ponder one day, when he was older and wiser. 

For a long time, he hadn’t expected to live past forty. Just as John had thought of taking his own life, not so different, they. When he considered all the events that had to happen in the exact sequence, at the ideal time to bring them both to that day in the lab at St. Bart’s..

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock kissed his nose. “Go back to sleep, John. I’ll join you in a few minutes. I have a bit of rearranging to do in my Mind Palace and I need to add another alcove to the John Watson wing.”

“I have a wing? You told me that once.”

“Yes, John. It’s beautiful. One day I’ll take you there.”

“You can do that?”

“With you by my side, John Hamish Watson, I wouldn’t be surprised if I could accomplish not only what is improbable, but what is impossible as well.”

“Mmm. If you say so, Sherlock,” John murmured, “it must be the truth. I believe in you, always have, always will.”

“Thank you, John.”

“Don’t be too long, Sherlock. I don’t want to lose you while I sleep.”

“You won’t lose me, John,” Sherlock whispered against John’s ear. “I know where you sleep.”


End file.
